Dark Days Ahead
by GreenspireTC
Summary: Blaine faces the challenge of learning how to cope with having his beloved husband Kurt in the hospital.


Dark Days Ahead

Helpless. forlorn. weak. hopeless. These are only some of the words that bombard through my head in an unorganized fashion, running into each other head on while I try to search for the word to describe the emotions I'm feeling right about now. None of them seem to capture the complete and utter pain I'm feeling. The emotional pain has become so prominent that it's become physical, and now with the physical pain in my gut rising; I'm beginning to feel as if I could throw up at any minute now. However, as much as I believe that could happen at any given time, I can't make this about me. I must give him my full attention in case anything happens.

Slowly, steadily, I extend my arm out, and intertwine my finger with a lock of his hair. In all my years of knowing him, I've never seen Kurt have a bad hair day. Looking at him now, with his hair all messed up and in front of his face, I can't help but think that he looks like a completely different person. No hair spray, no gel, nothing. Just plain old Kurt. I can't say I mind seeing his hair like this though, it's not often that I get to see it without any product, and to be honest, it's kind of cute. However, the fact that he's laying in a hospital bed in a coma, is anything but cute.

I hear a familiar voice coming from the hall. I then turn around, and see the door crack open. A short, petite girl wearing a very expensive looking pea coat, and a fur hat walks in. It's Rachel Berry. I can't remember the last time I'd seen or heard from Rachel. Last I'd seen anything about her, was on a television show where she had been interviewed about her extremely successful Broadway career. When we all lived in New York together, she'd starred in _Funny Girl_, gotten a role as a flying monkey in _Wicked,_and been in an ensemble for _Aida._ . . Or no, maybe it was _Hairspray._ Either way, that was just the start of her career.

"Rachel. . ." I trail off.

"No time for catching up, Blaine. We must get down to business immediately. How is he?" Rachel had always done things at a fast pace, almost as if she were driven by a motor. It was nice to see that that hadn't changed.

"Well, he's doing fine - uh, I mean not really. He's not doing fine actually. He's been unconscious for about two days now, and he doesn't seem to be getting much better. The doctors decided to put him on a morphine drip." Thatwas the first time I'd been able to explain the situation to someone without nearly crying. Maybe it was the fact that Rachel was there, or maybe I'm just getting over the initial shock. Either way, I can't complain. Rachel broke eye contact with me, and looked over at a pale, and lifeless Kurt. Her eyes widen, and she frantically makes her way over to Kurt's hospital bed.

She puts both hands over her mouth.

"Oh God. . ." she says. I can see tears starting to well up in her eyes, and I all I hear her say is "Oh God," or "God please no." Her speech gets faster, and begin to slur, until she kneels down on the floor, and buries her face in her hands. I can hear her crying, but not the kind that you would expect. Barely any noise comes out of her mouth because of how heavily, and loudly she's breathing, almost as if she were hyperventilating. When she does make noise though, it's broken, and sounds like shrieks. I don't think I can take anymore.

I stumble out the door, and into the empty hallway. I can hear my own heart beating, and I start to sweat. I feel as if I might go unconscious, but I sit down before I can. "You're gonna be okay." I think to myself. "Don't do this now. Not in public. You can do this. You can be strong." Only problem with that statement is, I don't think I can. Suddenly, it all comes out. All of the pain, guilt, despair, everything. It comes out broken, and scattered, like a million shards of glass thrown around the ground. I don't know how it ended up like this. Honestly, I don't know much of anything right now. All I know right now, is that my husband is dying just one wall away from me, and I'm having a melt down in the middle of a hospital hallway.

*Later that day*

Rachel, who was now on her way to a T.V. interview in Los Angeles, had not tried to contact me since she left, which was odd, because Rachel was always on top of much had happened today. Kurt's dad and stepmom visited us at the hospital, which was even more emotionally draining than Rachel's visit. I'd gotten a call from Santana and Brittany, who said they were visiting tomorrow, and I have a pretty good feeling that their visit will be pretty dramatic. Although it was nice to have the support from friends and family, a part of me is glad that they're gone now. I need some time alone with Kurt.

*The next day*

After accompanying someone in the hospital for more than three days, you start to become immune to most of the noises, and other distractions that go on around you. For example, a nurse wheeling a chair down the hallway, a beeping heart monitor, or a weeping man or woman. I was now immune to all of them. They had absolutely no affect on me.

It was now sometime in the middle of the night, and I still hadn't moved from the chair next to Kurt's bed that I sat down in a few hours ago. My eyes flicker around the room, and land on the television in front of me. I make my way over to it, and the next thing I know, I'm looking through the the selection of children's VCRs. After rifling through a number of different titles, I finally decide on _The Fox and the Hound._ I slide the tape in the old box television, and the black, lifeless screen comes to life in an unorganized fashion of black and white fuzz, and static electricity. The picture begins to fade to the image on the screen, and suddenly I can hear the audio. I make my way back over to the chair I was sitting on before, and I stare blankly at the television screen. It isn't long until I fall asleep.

The next morning I'm able to wake up, shower, and get some fresh clothes without any problems. I'm even able to eat a bagel from the hospital cafeteria. Later on, I decide to go get some coffee prior to Santana and Brittany's arrival. The drive there is quick, and before long I'm able to get back to the hospital. I step into the elevator, and press the button with a number three on it. One, two, three, floors pass by, and I get off the elevator. I turn the corner towards kurt's room, and instead of seeing the empty hallway as usual, I see a crowd of doctors and nurses surrounding his room. I set my coffee down, and make my way over to them.

"Just changing his IV fluids, right?" I say.

The doctors are all talking quietly, and are huddled together. One of them stops mid - sentence and says "I'm sorry sir, you can't be here right now." A nurse takes hold of my upper arm, and begins to lead me out of the hallway.

"Wait!" I say.

"What's going on? That's my husband you're taking care of. I have the right to know everything that's going on."

"I understand Sir, I really do. We're doing everything that we can for him." and with that, she leaves.

Exactly thirty two minutes go by, and I'm still standing here frantically watching from outside of Kurt's hospital room. I haven't been able to see much, but I've been able to hear everything. Everything's been really quite slow up until now. All of the doctors and nurses raise their voices, and begin speaking all at once. I can't hear anything specific. It all just sounds like gibberish. Suddenly, everybody stops talking.

Kurt Anderson died on June 14th, at 11:34 A.M. I don't cry at all the next few days, or at the funeral. It's the most terrible feeling in the world waking up in the morning, and feeling completely normal for a few seconds, and then remembering all of the events that happened over the past week. It's like having to re - live the initial shock of it over, and over again.

It still doesn't all feel completely real. It's almost as if my mind has subconsciously created this barrier that's blocking my emotions from the rest of my brain. The scary part is, I know that someday after all of the emotions have built up, the barrier will fail, and a flood of all of the pain will be released. With that in mind, you'd think that I'd just simply remove that barrier from my mind, and deal with the pain right now like everyone expects, but honestly, I don't think I have the mental capacity to cope with what's about to come.

The End


End file.
